Porter's Dog - a short story

Porter Conner, a single man, had found the dog he wanted. It was a fine looking, happy Labrador who liked to receive Porter’s kind words and gentle scratches behind the ears. Porter named him Conner, a name he could easily remember.

One day, men from the police department appeared. “We’re here, Porter, to ask you some questions. We want true answers.”

Porter tried to smile but noticed the officers were not smiling. “What’s the problem, sir?”

The officers stood, unwavering, “Several boys at the school who have been finishing their work making toys for needy children, tell us you are stealing their toys.”

Porter gasped. His eyes opened wide and he stared, astonished, at the police officers. “What? How could they accuse me? I like to help those boys when I have the time. How could they say such a thing?”

The first officer stepped forward. “Porter, we looked in a number of places and finally found the evidence in that old shop behind your house. It was obvious, Porter, you can’t deny it. The little trucks and the bright colored cars were placed together in a box. It’s all there. You can’t deny it, Porter.”

Porter found his voice, “I didn’t do it, I tell you. Why are you accusing me? That’s my old shed. I’ve got a car in there that’s no good for anything but parts. There’s a pile of wheels that had their best days years ago. I haven’t been inside that place for a long time. Why would I want to steal from some kids?”

The second officer said, “We don’t know why, Porter. We’re taking you in. Maybe, after you’ve had time to remember, you’ll tell us.”

For two days, life was a nightmare for Porter. He begged the officers to let him go home. He had asked his neighbor, Tom Hutchings, to take care of the dog, hoping Conner was in good hands. He said to himself, “Have I done this in my sleep? Did I fall back on some old family trait to rob people?”

On the third day, neighbor Tom Hutchings came to visit Porter in his cell. Tom was excited. He grinned and laughed and kept saying, “You’ll never believe this, Porter. Just wait until you see.”

Porter could see nothing funny about his predicament. He shook his head, stared at the floor and gripped his fingernails so hard they began to leave marks on the palms of his hands.

The policemen walked into his cell. “Come along, Porter. You must see this.” Porter mumbled to himself and frowned. “Now what?” With Tom also in the squad car, they drove Porter to his house and motioned for him to be quiet. His dog came around the corner carrying a box in his mouth. The dog eased into the old shed and set the box near the door. One of the officers whispered, “Just watch. Don’t say anything. Shhh.”

Porter’s dog disappeared around the corner, then suddenly appeared with a mouthful of colorful toys. “See? Watch him. Shhh.” They waited while the dog carefully placed each toy in the box, looked up at his audience and wagged his tail.

Porter moaned, “He stole them, my dog stole those toys!”

The officer said, “No, he didn’t.”

Porter began to argue, “What do you mean? We saw him.”

The policemen were laughing by now. “Porter, your dog is a purebred. He’s been bred to guard small items like these. He’s done a remarkable job of keeping them safe.”

Porter growled, “Yeah, he sent me to jail.”

Neighbor Tom said, “My brother owns a business using dogs like this. How long have you had this one, Porter?”

“Two months, that’s all. I sure got the wrong dog.” Porter could hardly talk.

Neighbor Tom continued, “No, Porter, you have a great dog. My brother can show you how to train this dog to do what you want. I had just enough time with him to see how smart he is. Conner will be your pal and helper for years to come.”

Porter felt the soft nudge of Conner’s presence at his side. “Okay, my friend,” Porter said. “You and I are both going to school. Betcha I can get there first!”

Luella Dow is a Cheney-area author. She can be reached at [email protected].